


Homecoming

by Accal1a



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Episode Tag, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Episode: s05e09 Lies of Omission, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accal1a/pseuds/Accal1a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles receives an unexpected visitor, just at the right time. Someone to work through his current demons; and maybe cause him to forget them for a little while too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't leave Stiles like that...

“Isaac?” Stiles asked, almost doing a double take when he saw the form appear beside him.

“No, it’s Santa Claus.”

“Still a dick, I see.”

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Stiles propped himself up on his hands, his legs still pointing towards the front of the jeep. He’d been lying on the front of his car, staring up at the sky as he had done so many times before. The difference this time of course being that Scott wasn’t with him. He tried not to think about that fact too much.

“What’s wrong?” Isaac asked, jumping up to sit next to Stiles and mirroring his position.

Stiles looked over at the other boy, biting back a sarcastic response. Isaac didn’t know anything and that wasn’t his fault. Except of course he’d left them all and maybe things would have been different if he’d stayed. Maybe a sarcastic response was just what he needed.

Stiles sighed. He didn’t really have it in him though. He was too tired and, if he was honest, he didn’t begrudge Isaac his decision to leave. Allison’s death affected them all in different ways. In fact, was Stiles even allowed to talk to Isaac? Had he abdicated that right when he’d killed Allison?

“You left.” Stiles said.

“What?” Isaac replied, looking surprised. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all.

That hadn’t been what Stiles had expected to say either; and now he didn’t know how to take it back. “I mean…er…you’re back. That’s great. You’d left and…er…and now you’re back.”

“That’s generally how it works.” Isaac said carefully. There was clearly something going on with Stiles and the chemo signals were changing so quickly it was almost too much for him to work them out. There was certainly a lot of anger; some sadness; and confusion and anxiety seemed to be playing a large part too.

“Stiles, what happened?” He paused. “Is everyone…I mean…is the pack okay?”

Just like that, Stiles’ chemo signal changed to one of deep regret, far greater than the one he’d previously been exhibiting. Stiles slumped back down onto the jeep, banging his head on the windscreen as he did so.

Isaac moved closer, worried that Stiles had hurt himself; but even more worried about his emotional state. What the hell had happened whilst he’d been away? Had someone else died? Was Scott okay? He tried to focus on the one thing he actually could fix.

“Does your head hurt?”

Almost before his question was finished, Stiles was answering. “It’s fine.”

“Stiles, let me look at your head.”

“I said…” Stiles’ sentence was cut off as Isaac drew closer, carding his hand through Stiles’ now too long hair.

Isaac felt the bump that was forming (and just how hard had Stiles managed to bang his head?), massaging the area carefully. He leeched the pain away, Stiles relaxing slightly as he did so.

Isaac pulled away but still looked down at Stiles from where he had fallen.

“What happened?” He said, softer than the previous time.

Stiles moved his left arm above his head, pillowing his head on it; but otherwise didn’t move. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Great, I’ll just be off then. It seems like you’re dealing with your ‘nothing’ really well.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“What, no witty response?”

Stiles shot Isaac a glare.

“Wow, you’re really off your game, man.”

Stiles got up, sitting up so fast that Isaac had to move quickly to avoid being crashed into. He lent his forearms on his knees, no longer making eye contact with Isaac.

“It’s a truly interesting tactic you’ve got going on here.”

Stiles turned then, shoving Isaac slightly when he did so. “What do you want from me?”

Isaac moved closer after the shove; but didn’t say anything.

“What, no witty response?” Stiles echoed.

“This reverse Psychology isn’t working you know.” He continued.

“You can’t just give me the silent treatment and expect me to tell you what’s going on.”

“Ah! So there is something going on!” Isaac said triumphantly.

“Of course there’s something going on! Because A) It’s Beacon Hills; and B) Do you think I park my Jeep up here and lie despondently on the hood when I’m feeling peachy?”

“Peachy?” Isaac repeated, a twinkle in his eye.

“It’s a phrase.” Stiles whispered, suddenly very aware of how close Isaac was to him.

“It’s a stupid phrase.” Isaac replied, moving closer still.

“You’re a stupid phrase.” Stiles replied automatically.

Then suddenly they were kissing. It was messy; and Stiles felt like he was drowning in it, like he had no control over the passion that was somehow pouring out of him. He hadn’t felt anything more than a desire to run and never look back for hours and this was something else entirely, this was feeling. This was an emotion that wasn’t making him feel like he was choking.

“I have a girlfriend.” He said, once they’d come up for air.

“I don’t want to _date_ you, Stiles. You just looked like you needed a good kissing.”

“I looked like…” Stiles started; but he was cut off mid-sentence by another round of bruising kisses.

Somehow, they ended up actually on the hood of the jeep, Isaac’s taller form half laid on Stiles, one of his long legs between Stiles’ shorter ones. After a while, the kisses became languid, more a way of passing the time, rather than the urgency at the start. It was sort of perfect and Stiles found himself relaxing for the first time in what felt like months.

Isaac pulled away, his hand still on Stiles’ hip. He didn’t want Stiles to think he’d just stopped for no reason; but he did think Stiles needed to talk about whatever was going on. Stiles was no longer giving off emotions left, right and centre. He still seemed to be anxious; but it was only slightly higher than the low-grade anxiety Stiles usually gave off so Isaac discounted it.

“Scott’s not…” Stiles started but couldn’t seem to continue.

Isaac was tracing circles with his thumb on Stiles’ hip, showing support without saying anything; but he stopped at the aborted sentence.

“Is Scott…” Isaac replied, unable to complete his sentence either.

Stiles looked across at him, not understanding the meaning straight away, eventually just shaking his head minutely. 

That was what scared Isaac the most, that Stiles was clearly off his game. What was it that had happened that had stopped Stiles’ ability to think quickly; to use sarcasm? Isaac had known Stiles before he’d been turned of course, they’d been on the same team together; and Stiles had never failed to be the clown of whichever group he was in. They hadn’t really spoken until Derek had made him part of his pack; but even then, the way that that had happened meant they were on, if not opposing sides, certainly sides that didn’t particularly get along. Still, Isaac always found Stiles fascinating and when they became tenuous friends he enjoyed the sass and sarcasm showdowns they had. This, he couldn’t work with, this was a deflated Stiles, one he didn’t recognise and couldn’t understand. He didn’t know what he could do to bring him out of his shell because, he was startled to realise, despite all they’d been through; they still didn’t know each other all that well.

After another minute of silence, Isaac shifted slightly and Stiles jumped away from him with a gasp, starting to slide off the side of the jeep. Isaac caught him without thinking and pulled him closer, noting just how jumpy Stiles apparently was.

Stiles looked up then, clasping his hand on Isaac’s forearm. He leant in to Isaac’s space, aiming for a kiss; but Isaac backed away slightly.

Stiles raised an eyebrow and Isaac had to stop a grin spreading across his face. This was the Stiles he knew, the one who could have entire conversations with facial expressions.

“Not kissable anymore, then?” Stiles quipped, surprising himself.

“No more kissing until you tell me what’s up.”

It was like a switch had been flipped. Stiles immediately shut down, his anxiety a pronounced spike. Isaac moved his hand quickly against the windscreen as Stiles once more crashed his head down into it. Isaac was relieved that at least this time he didn’t hurt his head. Whatever it was that was causing Stiles to be uncharacteristically quiet wasn’t going to be solved with repeated head injuries.

Stiles looked across at him when he realised what Isaac had done. He smiled wanly, though didn’t move or say anything; just staring up at the night sky.

“Scott hates me.”

Isaac thought he probably looked comically surprised; but Stiles wasn’t looking at him anyway. He seemed to be talking to the sky, so Isaac lay down next to him, pulling his hand out from underneath Stiles’ head as he did so. Maybe this was a conversation that needed to be had when they weren’t looking at each other.

Isaac waited for at least a minute, waiting to see whether Stiles would continue. When it was clear he wouldn’t, he thought he had better say something, although he wasn’t sure just what he was supposed to say to a statement which was so ludicrous.

“I doubt that.”

Stiles’ whole demeanour changed. Isaac was only looking at him out of the corner of his eye and Stiles seemed to lose half of his mass, his anxiety causing him to fold in on himself as a sob tore out of his throat.

Isaac turned just as Stiles rolled and jumped off the jeep, leaning against it when his feet found purchase on the ground. Isaac sat up, moving to sit cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Stiles?”

Stiles raked his hands through his hair, tugging slightly as he did so.

Isaac couldn’t see his face anymore and he wasn’t sure what the etiquette was in a situation like this. Clearly Stiles had rolled away from him and he didn’t want to crowd the other man; but equally this was obviously something that Stiles was attempting to talk to him about.

“Stiles, do you want me to...” The word ‘go’ was drowned out by Stiles beginning to speak, quietly to begin with but getting louder as his sentences ran on. He didn’t seem to be crying, that one heart-wrenching sob seemed to have been it.

“Scott hates me; and it’s my fault really. I knew I was never good enough to be his friend and this just proves it doesn’t it? I suppose it’s surprising that it didn’t happen before now. I mean he’s always been so noble, so in the right, I was bound to do something to wreck that. I don’t know why I even tried so hard, it’s obvious I had a broken streak inside me from the get go wasn’t it? I mean why would it have picked me if it hadn’t found a niche there in the first place? It wouldn’t have had anything to latch on to if I wasn’t inherently wrong in the first place. I mean… ”

“Stiles what are you talking about?” 

To Isaac it sounded like Stiles had completely lost it. What was he saying: that Scott didn’t like him anymore; that Stiles had never been worthy of him as a friend; that Stiles was flawed in some way?

It was like he hadn’t spoken, Stiles seemed to be on a roll. He’d pushed away from the side of the Jeep and was now pacing and gesticulating wildly as he did so.

“It’s just you’d think I’d be the sensible one, with all my logic…but you know what logic teaches you? It teaches you to be analytical, to play the odds, to make decisions based on what makes sense with the variables. There’s no black and white thinking with logic. There’s no real morality. So how was I going to be able to stay Scott’s friend when I was like that? This was going to happen sooner or later, wasn’t it? So maybe it’s good that it happened now. I mean we’re leaving for college next year, right? So this is like a clean break. He can go off and not be burdened by me anymore, he can continue with his pack and not have to cart round this dead weight. Because that’s all I ever was really wasn’t it? I was bound to slip up. There’s just something not-quite right about me, isn't there? I must be evil deep down otherw…”

“STILES!”

Stiles swung round towards Isaac, stopping his pacing as he did so. 

“What?”

Isaac gestured towards Stiles with both hands, quite clearly not knowing what to say.

“ _What_ , Isaac?”

“What? You’re seriously going to be confused about what I’ve just said?”

“You didn’t say anything. You just waved your too long arms at me.”

“You really want to talk about my arms, Mr. ‘Flails for a living’?”

“’Flails for a living’? Seriously?”

“If the shoe fits.”

There was a companionable silence for a moment, as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened. Isaac could see the moment Stiles remembered what he’d been talking about. The smirk slipped from his face, his shoulders fell and he started to pace again.

“Stiles.” Isaac said again, gently this time. “Why do you think you’re evil?”

Stiles stopped mid-stride, turning once more towards Isaac, his mouth falling open as he did so.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He thought he knew; but he wanted Stiles to confirm it before he went about dealing with the issue. He still wasn’t sure why Scott wasn’t here dealing with it; but if Stiles was at least getting something out of ranting to someone in the middle of the night, then who was he to jump to conclusions?

“I killed someone.”

Isaac sucked in a breathe, not realising quite how audible it had been.

“See?” Stiles said, gesturing at himself. “Evil.”

Why hadn’t Scott been dealing with this with Stiles? Had he just left him for months to deal with all of the evil spirit’s fall out on his own? Because Alpha or no Alpha, Isaac would slap him round the head if that were the case. Couldn’t he see how much this was affecting his best friend? How could he have just left him like this, in this quite clearly fragile state? Did Scott really think that Stiles had _chosen_ this? Did he really think that Stiles had always been predisposed to evil and that the Nogitsune was welcomed in? Was Scott really that dumb? Isaac couldn’t believe that he was going to have to be the one to pick up the pieces of Stiles’ fragile psyche. He didn't even really like him all that much.

“It wasn’t you, Stiles.”

“What?” Because yes it was, he didn’t remember seeing anyone else in that damn library.

“It wasn’t your fault. It could have been any of us.”

“What?” Stiles repeated, not understanding what Isaac was getting at, how could it have been any of them? As far as he knew, Donovan was only after his father not anyone elses.

“Pretty sure a 1000-year-old fox spirit was likely to out-fox any one of us. You can’t be blamed for being the one it picked.”

“Oh.” Of course Isaac didn’t know. If he knew, he’d not be so kind.

Stiles’ anxiety levels sky-rocketed and Isaac felt once again that he was missing something.

Stiles slumped to the ground this time, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Isaac jumped off the jeep’s hood and joined him in the dirt just in time to see the tears fall to the ground, creating tiny portions of mud in the dry dirt.

“Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t move.

“Stiles.” Isaac said slightly more forcefully but no less softly.

Stiles raised his head, tears falling, unchecked.

“Stiles. Tell me what happened. Tell me what’s wrong.” He paused slightly. “Please.”

It was the ‘please’ that did it, Stiles thought later. He was too tired for what-ifs in that moment. He just wanted it over.

“I killed someone.”

“Just so we’re clear…this is a new ‘someone’?”

“Yeah.” Stiles said quietly. “Yeah. His name was Donovan. He was going to kill my Dad, going to kill me. We were fighting and he…he fell. There was some scaffolding and he, when I climbed down, he was dead.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Isaac said fondly, before pulling Stiles into a hug. Stiles flailed slightly before wrapping his arms around Isaac’s back and crying quietly into his shoulder for quite some time.

When Stiles was merely sniffing, Isaac pulled away slightly, whilst still maintaining contact.

“And Scott?” He asked, knowing that the entire band-aid needed to be ripped off for whatever this was to heal.

“Scott hates me.”

“Why?” Isaac prompted.

“He…he said we weren’t supposed to be killing the people we were trying to save.”

Isaac waited, not wanting to interrupt if Stiles needed to get more out. When it seemed obvious that Stiles wasn’t going to say anything else, Isaac felt able to continue.

“This guy, Donovan, he was going to kill you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So you were fighting for your life, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Then what’s Scott’s problem?” Isaac asked in all seriousness.

Without thinking, Stiles hit him around the head.

It didn’t hurt, but Isaac still yelped anyway. “What was that for?”

“You insulted Scott.” Stiles replied.

“You two are idiots.”

“Why?”

Isaac was getting an inkling of what may have happened. Stiles’ run on-sentences were legendary and didn’t really make a lot of sense. If Scott had got the wrong end of the stick, it was completely plausible that they were both upsetting the other for absolutely no reason.

“Tell me what happened.” When Stiles opened his mouth to answer, Isaac continued. “Tell me what happened when you told Scott.”

“He already knew. He had the wrench I’d used to get away from Donovan in the first place; it still had the blood on it. He showed it to me, asked me why I hadn’t told him.”

“And you told him that it was self-defence? That Donovan was trying to kill you? That he had been trying to kill your dad? Told him that it was an accident? That you hadn’t meant to do it?”

“I guess…”

“And Scott said he hated you anyway? He hated you despite the fact that if it hadn’t been Donovan it would have been you who had died? Scott hates you even though he would have lost you if it hadn’t been for the death of this other guy? He put your life, the life of his best friend, above the morality of killing someone you barely know - in self-defence?”

“Well when you say it like that…”

“When I say it like that it sounds utterly ridiculous?”

“Er…”

“That’s what I thought.” Isaac got to his feet, pulling Stiles up as he did so. “Get in the Jeep.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“To see Scott, you idiot. Geez, how did you lot get along without me?”

**Author's Note:**

> And what the hell, I managed to make _myself_ cry writing this.


End file.
